From Steel And Lightning
by frostygossamer
Summary: AU Wheelchair user Bobby needs a helper so he uses a spellbook to create a slave he calls Dean. When hunter Sam turns up, however, Dean begins to look beyond the salvage yard. Sam/Dean unrelated slash. COMPLETE
1. Bobby Geppetto

Summary: AU Wheelchair user Bobby needs a helper so he uses a spellbook to create a slave he calls Dean. When hunter Sam turns up, however, Dean begins to look beyond the salvage yard. Sam/Dean unrelated slash.

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><p>From Steel And Lightning (Part 1: Bobby Geppetto) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>Bobby Singer was a lonely middle-aged guy, who used to be a hunter of all nasty things supernatural. He now kept a salvage yard. He lived there all on his lonesome, as his dear wife was long dead and they had had no children. Both things he bitterly regretted.<p>

To top it off, he had lately ended up in a wheelchair, following a self-inflicted accident with a loaded shotgun. This particularly riled Bobby, because he was a fiercely independent man. He hated to ask anyone for help, even though living alone in a junkyard was hardly convenient for an invalid.

One day he had an urgent phone call from an old friend of his, Rufus. He was a fellow hunter, who needed Bobby to research him some lore on an obscure supernatural scarebaby that had been terrorising some little town in the South West.

Bobby poked around in his extensive library of dusty old tomes. Some of these books were upwards of two hundred years old. He'd bought many of them from shady rare book dealers of his acquaintance. A lot of his titles had just been dumped there by old hunter friends, And a few he had even ordered off of the internet. A hell of a lot of them he had never gotten around to indexing, or even shelving properly.

Climbing up to get books from the higher bookshelves was beyond him right now, so he was forced to ferret around in the random titles left in piles at floor level. That was how he came across a tatty old spellbook he'd never seen before. Glancing through it, his eye lighted on some detailed instructions for creating a 'Humanoid Slave Creature', no less.

Bobby snorted in disgust and tossed the shabby volume aside. After a half hour spent failing to hook down an important reference book from a high shelf with a walking cane, however, he was beginning to feel like he could really have done with a humanoid slave creature, supernatural or not.

So, after he had finally identified Rufus' required information and called him back to pass it on, he picked up the discarded volume. He gave it a second idle look-over, while sipping a mollifying finger of his favourite whiskey. He was a little surprised when he realised that he actually had all the elements that he would need for the spell. Bobby was tempted. He stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"Maybe I could try this out", he muttered to himself. "I could sure as hell do with a little help around the yard."

He didn't want to admit it, but he needed a little help with practically everything. It was pretty damn hard managing in a wheelchair in a house that had in no way been adapted for a wheelchair user.

"Damn it. I'ma gonna do this", he declared, after his third whiskey. "I know it kinda goes against the hunter's ethos, but it's only white magic. What could it hurt? I'll just keep the thing around until this damn gunshot wound heals the hell up, and then I'll unspell it. Who'll ever know?"

Bobby propped the old book up on the kitchen table, like it was his momma's old recipe book, and began to gather the bits and pieces he needed for the spell. Basically it said he had to start by making a sort of mannequin. It was important, apparently, to built the mannequin out of items of sentimental value and fine craftsmanship. If it didn't look good you'd end up with some ugly-ass, worthless gargoyle of a thing.

Well, Bobby didn't want to be sharing his home with some twisted little Chucky doll, so he went and searched his yard for parts for his 'artwork'. Out in the yard an idea struck him, and he sought out his cache of valuable classic car and truck parts. These little beauties he had been treasuring until the right repairs came along.

Hauling them indoors one at a time on his lap, he set about creating his sculpture out of some fine tooled pieces engineering and sleek chrome, right in the middle of the den. It looked pretty good. Bobby felt damn proud of his efforts. A fine thing like that could have almost gotten him into art school, he thought. It looked kinda abstractionist but it had a certain... something.

That only left the actual ceremony. He had to burn a few special rare 'herbs' in a silver bowl, a few of them technically illegal in South Dakota. Then he had to chant some incantations in an ancient Native American tongue. Once Bobby had googled a few pronunciations he felt pretty confident.

Bobby set the whole thing up inside a big old salt ring, just in case the thing he was going to create should turn out dangerous. And then he began.

As the last words left his mouth and vanished into the silence of his lonely house, Bobby released a sigh. Nothing happening. This wasn't going to work. Disappointed, Bobby spun his wheelchair away. He was wondering if he should have used fresh oregano after all, when there was a sudden flash like lightning behind him.

Bobby froze, for a moment almost scared to turn around and look at his metal construction. When he finally forced himself, he gasped as he saw that it was gone. Then he noticed, curled up on the floor, where the thing had been standing just a moment before, the shape of a guy, a naked guy, curled into a ball.

Bobby wheeled on over to the new arrival. Tentatively, he leaned down and grabbed the guy by his arm and dragged him up into a sitting position. He looked dazed and kept opening and shutting his mouth wordlessly, like a fish. While averting his eyes from his nakedness, Bobby did notice that the guy's stomach was smooth. He had no navel. Thankfully, he seemed otherwise completely human.

"Welcome home, boy", Bobby greeted him cheerily. "How ya doing?"

.oOo.

A couple weeks later, Bobby's new helper was responding well to training. Bobby had decided to name him Dean, a name he picked at random. Luckily he was one hell of a fast learner. In fact, he soaked up information like Johnny Five.

Not only did Dean help the old man around the house, he also turned out to be useful around the junkyard. He quickly picked up a little engine maintenance. Actually, he seemed to have an affinity for it. Not a big surprise really, considering what he was made of.

"Snips and snails and freaking puppy-dog tails be damned", Bobby chuckled. "Steel and lightning. Who knew?"

Dean was a good-looking boy, well-built too. After all he'd been conjured from some very high quality parts. Bobby had expected his creation might be a little on the robotic side, but far from it. He was fast, he was smooth and he was goddamn sleek.

Bobby's slave could have passed for human anywhere. The old hunter suspected he maybe was human, certainly he couldn't tell the difference. Dean ate, drank, slept and used the john, just like regular folks. Sometimes Bobby almost forgot he wasn't a real person.

He gave the guy his own room. He couldn't just stand him in a corner until he needed him, like an unwanted vacuum cleaner. So he gave him his best guest room. The one that would have been the nursery. Soon Bobby was starting to think of Dean as the son he never had.

A real son couldn't have been more helpful or useful. Dean seemed perfectly contented with his lot, taking care of the old hunter. But then, after all, it was all he knew. He cleaned Bobby's house, cooked, did laundry and generally wheeled and carried Bobby around the place, never complaining.

Dean also helped out in the junkyard. He was pretty damn strong, agile and very fit. Plus he was good with his hands. Bobby taught him how to maintain his truck and how to drive. He was a natural. Pretty soon Bobby was having Dean drive them both into town for supplies every week.

When they went to the local store, Bobby always made Dean wait for him in the truck. He didn't want his neighbours asking him any questions about his visitor, or Dean to let slip anything that would give him away as not exactly human. Also he didn't want to have to make up any stupid explanations, when his temporary helper eventually needed to disappear.

Dean was a little disappointed that he never got to speak to anyone but Bobby. He knew nothing of the world outside the junkyard and he was curious. Visitors to Bobby's yard were rare, and those few were mostly hunters. When they came, Bobby would explain Dean away as a relative of some old non-mutual friend, just in case they got suspicious.

Bobby had explained to Dean what hunters were. He had warned him that some, if not most, hunters would say that someone like him was inherently evil and should be destroyed. He told Dean to be very careful around these guys and watch his words.

That was a shame because Dean would have loved to chat with them about their lives, lives that sounded pretty damn exciting to him. Bobby had told him some great stories about his life as a hunter and he wanted more. Bobby felt a little sorry for Dean. It seemed a shame that his short life was going to be all work and no play.

And then, one day, someone new came to the salvage yard.

TBC

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><p>AN: Guess who? Well it is a Sam and Dean romance, so...


	2. His Prince

Summary: AU Wheelchair user Bobby needs a helper so he uses a spellbook to create a slave he calls Dean. When hunter Sam turns up, however, Dean begins to look beyond the salvage yard. Sam/Dean unrelated slash.

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><p>From Steel And Lightning (Part 2: His Prince) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>One early fall morning, Dean was upstairs cleaning, when he heard an automobile draw up outside the house. The purr of the engine sounded good to Dean's sensitive ears, and he had to stop and look out the window to see what it was.<p>

Parked outside was a long, black, handsome 1967 Chevy Impala, and out of it stepped a tall, dark, handsome guy. The car was classy, so was the guy. He was the youngest visitor Dean had ever seen at the salvage yard, and his curiosity went into overdrive.

Downstairs, he heard Bobby greet the stranger like a long lost son. Dean carefully peered down the stairway, to see the two men hug like family. Bobby spotted him and motioned him down to join them. Dean felt a little surprised. Bobby wasn't usually so keen for him to meet and greet.

"This here's Sam", he said, grinning widely. "Sam Winchester, my old friend John Winchester's boy. He's a hunter", he added meaningfully, as a warning to Dean.

"And this here's Dean", he continued. "He's Old Gus's grandson. He's just helping me out while I'm in this damn chair. He, uh, he won't be staying long. Soon as I'm up and about, he'll be gone."

"None of your pretty widow neighbours volunteer to help out then?", Sam asked, with a chuckle, and then, after a moment's thought, "Old Gus? The guy whose foot was bitten clean off by a werewolf in Colorado three years ago? I didn't even know he had kids."

"That's all you know", Bobby retorted gruffly. "You eaten? I was just fixing dinner", he continued, swiftly changing the subject.

.oOo.

They all three sat down to dinner, meatloaf which Dean had made. Dean kept his head down, just quietly listening as Bobby and his guest discussed his news.

"How was it down in the Glades, Sam?", Bobby asked Sam. "Burl and Budd were sayin' they had some nasty shit on their hands, sortin' out that damn business. You have any problems, son?"

"Some", Sam replied grimly. "We had casualties. Budd was out of it a couple days with two broken ribs. Those fuglies fight goddamn dirty. But they got it handed back in spades. Hell, they knew the rules. The deal was they stayed away from humans and we let them alone. Seems the new generation had other ideas."

"Yeah, couldn't have 'em go evil-ass on us again", Bobby agreed.

Sam shrugged. "They broke the deal, so we broke them. That's how it goes. When I left, there were still some ten hunters searching deeper in the swamps for holed-up leftovers. They find something that needs manpower, Burl's got my number."

Bobby smiled wistfully. "Woulda love to get in on it, boy, hunting with the guys like old times. 'Ceptin' the legs, damn 'em."

"And so it would be great if I could just stay over a couple days, Bobby", Sam finished. "If that's not a problem?"

Bobby hesitated, glancing at Dean.

To tell the truth, Bobby would rather not have had Sam staying around while Dean was still in the house. Sam was a hunter and he wasn't a fool. There was a good chance he would notice something, or Dean would innocently do something, that would give the game away.

The last thing Bobby wanted was for Sam to call him out for dabbling in spells the way he had. And frankly he was a little worried for Dean. Bobby couldn't be sure that he could trust Sam to show mercy to his humanoid slave creature, if he knew him for what he was.

On the other hand, Sam was his friend. He treated Bobby like some kind of substitute father figure. He couldn't exactly turn him away, and he didn't really want to.

"Sure, Sam", he replied. "Stay as long as you like. You're always welcome."

.oOo.

Dean had been given strict instructions in relation to Sam.

"Don't speak unless you're spoken too. Don't ask any stupid questions. And be vague if he asks you anything. On no account must Sam guess the truth about you."

Sam was a hunter, and hunters did not like Dean's kind, whatever his kind was.

It was a bummer really, because Dean liked Sam. In fact, apart from Bobby, Sam was by far the most interesting human Dean had ever met. He really wanted to get to know him, and he really wanted Sam to think of him as a friend, the way Bobby did. But he was just a tiny bit wary around him. He had heard Bobby's stories. He knew what hunters could do, and he wasn't an idiot.

Dean was preparing breakfast with Bobby, when a sleepy Sam came down the stairs the next morning.

"Bobby, I was gonna ask you to take a look-see at the Impala while I was here", Sam began. "Seems to be some kinda strange noise whenever I go over sixty."

Despite still running his dad's classic Chevy, Sam didn't know the first thing about what made it tick.

"I'll give her a once over when we get back from town this afternoon", Bobby said. "Gotta go pick up some supplies, now I got an extra mouth to feed."

Sam nodded. "Sure. Whatever works for you", he agreed.

After breakfast, Bobby and Dean took the truck to the market. Sam finished the dishes, and took the opportunity to get his laundry done, while he waited for the others to return. He had just settled down with a book, when Bobby wheeled himself in the door.

"I asked Dean to take a look at the Impala", he said. "He's got a way with engines, that boy."

"Cool", Sam replied, and he wandered outside.

He found Dean with his head already under the hood of the Impala. Sam stood watching him work for a while, trying not to stare at his butt. He was finding it strangely fascinating.

"You seem to know your way around an automobile, Dean. Me, I never really got into it. I was always the bookworm. It was my dad used to maintain this heap."

"This 'heap' is a work of art, man", Dean muttered from under the hood. "Treat her with respect and she'll serve you fine."

Sam smiled. "You sound like a fan. I guess classic cars are your thing, huh?"

Dean stepped back, wiping his oily hands on a piece of rag.

"I just understand them, is all", he said. "You need a new drive belt. And a tune up wouldn't hurt. How often you get her serviced?"

"Whenever I see Bobby. But I haven't been up here for a while. Been down Florida way all summer. They had problems down there with blood-monkeys, nasty-assed things. Almost lost a leg tangling with those goddamn freaks."

"Seriously? That woulda been a damn shame, Sam", Dean remarked, eyeing Sam up and down slowly. "You got one helluva nice chassis."

Sam wasn't sure exactly how to take that, but it gave him a weird buzz.

.oOo.

Sam stood in his room, staring out the window, watching Dean do a tune up on his car. Dean was quite a mystery. He was pretty damn sure Old Gus never had any kids, certainly none he would own to. So how would he have a grandson? And anyways this guy didn't look anything like the crusty old rogue. Dean was WAY too attractive. Attractive enough to make Sam inexplicably feel a little less straight whenever he was around.

So who was this good-looking guy? And what was he doing here? And, worst of all, why the hell was Bobby, of all people, lying to him about the guy? Was he wanted maybe? Hiding out? Didn't Bobby know he could trust him? He was going to have to have this out with the old hunter sooner or later.

Sam noticed that Dean had finished with the car and come back into the house. He went back downstairs, and found Dean pouring himself a black coffee.

"Want some?", he asked Sam, when he noticed him standing there looking at him.

"Sure", Sam replied.

He filled a mug and began rummaging around for the whitener and sweetener Bobby normally kept for him.

"You been staying here long?", he asked nonchalantly over his shoulder, as he searched.

"Few months", Dean answered vaguely, as per instruction.

Sam found what he was looking for, and sat down at the table across from Dean.

"And before that?", he prompted.

Dean hesitated. How was he supposed to answer a question like that?

"Here and there", he quickly ad-libbed.

Sam sighed. He wasn't going to get anything out of the guy this way.

"Me too", he said, thinking maybe, if he talked about himself, it would draw Dean out some.

"Originally I'm from Lawrence, Kansas. But been moving around my whole life. Dad never liked to stay anyplace too long and, well, I never cottoned to anywhere special. I'm kinda footloose. I guess the Impala's the closest thing I got to home."

Dean smiled warmly. "Then you should take better care of her, man", he remarked.

"I know", Sam replied sadly. "And I try. It's just not my area of expertise. I have to rely on Bobby for that. He takes care of Dad's baby. And he kinda looks out for me."

Dean nodded. "Bobby's a nice guy, I think", he said. "He needed help but he's proud, so I do everything I can. Don't mind it really. Could be a lot worse. Guess I got kinda lucky here."

"Lucky?", Sam asked, confused.

At that moment, Bobby sounded the horn right outside, and Dean sprang up to go help him get his stuff out the truck.

TBC

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><p>AN: Sam likes Dean, but is he going to discover his secret?


	3. Pumpkin Impala

Summary: AU Wheelchair user Bobby needs a helper so he uses a spellbook to create a slave he calls Dean. When hunter Sam turns up, however, Dean begins to look beyond the salvage yard. Sam/Dean unrelated slash.

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><p>From Steel And Lightning (Part 3: Pumpkin Impala) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>Sam had the feeling that Dean had almost begun to open up a little, if Bobby hadn't interrupted their conversation. He needed to get the guy alone again somehow. As they were eating dinner, a fun idea came to him.<p>

"Maybe I'll take a run in the Impala after dinner", he said. "And maybe you can come along, Dean. I'd like an expert with a trained ear to check her out for weird noises. I need to make sure she's running smooth before I take off."

"No need, man", Dean retorted sharply. "I got her purring like a kitten."

Brushing past the fact that he seemed to have accidentally questioned Dean's competency with an engine, Sam refused to be easily put off.

"Yeah, but we need to try her at speed, Dean", Sam insisted. "Wouldn't you like to take her out on the highway? Really taste that acceleration?"

Dean looked tempted. He glanced at Bobby for his approval. The old guy nodded.

"Sure. Why not? Sounds like an idea", Bobby agreed. What harm could it do?

So that evening, rush hour over and the highway relatively quiet, Sam and Dean climbed into the Impala and pulled away from Bobby's yard.

Dean had the heart of an engine and he yearned for speed. As his foot nudged the accelerator and, as the speedometer reading rose ever higher, a beautiful grin blossomed on his face.

Sam was impressed, both by the gorgeous grin and by his driving. This guy drove like a professional.

"You do any motor racing?", he asked curiously.

"Never been over 30mph", Dean replied with a smirk.

Sam grabbed the back of his seat, his face turning a little white.

"You know you're totally STOMPING the speed limit, right?", he squeaked.

Dean smiled. "YOU wanted to test her, Sam", he yelled over the roar of the engine.

"OK, OK", Sam stuttered. "Think she passed the damn test with one hand behind her back, Dean. Now pull over."

Dean chuckled as he rapidly decelerated, and brought the Impala to a stop by the side of the road.

"That was some AWESOME rush", he gasped, putting her in park.

"Better than sex", Sam joked, feeling winded.

Dean shot him a curious glance. "Seriously?", he asked.

"Hell no", Sam retorted, laughing. "But sex IS kinda like speed, just without the motion sickness."

Dean looked confused. "I don't get motion sickness", he said.

Sam smiled at him. "But you do get sex, right? The chicks must totally dig you, man."

Dean wondered what a real boy would reply to a question like that.

"I don't, uh...", he began uncertainly, but he got no further when he suddenly found Sam's mouth pressed against his lips.

He panicked, shoving Sam away from him with all his strength.

Sam fell back in his seat. "S-sorry", he stuttered. "Guess I misread the signals."

Dean's eyes were big as saucers. Sam was a little surprised that he was reacting like an old maid who had just gotten goosed. He decided he had better end the awkward situation, before Dean recovered his senses and he got a well deserved punch in the nose.

"Let's go on back", he said. "I'll drive", and he got out of the car and walked around to the other side. He opened the driver's door. "Move over please, Dean."

Dean slid over into the passenger seat. He wasn't happy about what had just happened. It wasn't the lip action exactly, more the fact that he seemed to have accidentally offended someone who he did actually quietly like, a lot. And now he wasn't going to get to drive home either.

When they arrived back at Bobby's, the old hunter noticed that there was an unease between the two young men. It worried him. He wondered if Sam was getting closer to uncovering Dean's secret.

.oOo.

Back in his room Sam kicked himself.

"Just because you're feeling lonely and horny, and ridiculously unlucky in love, and the guy is so damn pretty, doesn't mean he's gonna suddenly come across, no matter how much you want him", he chided himself.

Want him? Since when had he started wanting guys? He knew he was acting strange around Dean, but jumping on the guy by the side of the road was never going to be the best way for him to get Dean to trust him. If Dean didn't trust him, then how was he ever going to convince the guy he might want to be with him? Because being with him was suddenly what he wanted most. It was weird.

Whatever this strange fascination he felt for the guy was, what had gone on earlier more or less proved that nothing was ever going to happen. Dean just wasn't interested, to put it mildly.

In his own room, Dean pondered what had just occurred. The lip touching had come as a big, big surprise. He had a feeling Bobby had left a pretty damn important piece out of his education. Sam was like no other human that he had met so far, and he found being with him very pleasant in a strange groin stirring sort of way.

He was inclined to feel that he had done himself a great disservice by not letting Sam do whatever he had been going to do to him in the car. He resolved not to let that happen again.

In their adjacent rooms, both guys spent the night thinking about each other, each in their own different way.

.oOo.

The next day Sam got the phone call he had been waiting for. His services as a hunter were required elsewhere, urgently. Although reluctant to go, Sam kind of thought this was perhaps a good moment to split. Maybe putting some miles between him and Dean would help him to calm down and straighten the hell out.

"Looks like I gotta get my show back on the road, Bobby", he explained to the old hunter. "The guys need me back in the Everglades A-S-A-P."

Bobby nodded. "Need any help, don't hesitate to call, son. Just wish I was fit enough to join ya in the hunt. Damn these useless old stumps of mine."

Sam quickly packed up and took his leave of Bobby and his carer.

"I'll call and give you an update on how things are going, Bobby", he said, climbing into his Impala. "I may get back this way in a couple months. If I can, I'll swing on by and catch up with you both."

"Look forward to that, Sam", Bobby replied. "But I guess Dean'll be gone by then. I'm not wanting to be stuck in this damn wheelchair any longer that I have to. Soon as I'm up and around there'll be no need for his services. He'll be, uh, movin' on."

Sam glanced at Dean, but the guy's expression was distant, and the smile faded from Sam's face.

"See ya", he called back, as he drove away.

Back on the highway, Sam resolved to try to put Dean out of his mind for good.

.oOo.

Some time passed, and Bobby's injury began to mend. Pretty soon he had abandoned the accursed wheelchair, and was shambling around on crutches. Once or twice he fell, but he insisted on shrugging off Dean's attempts to help him up. Dean understood the old guy. He had his pride, and it was Dean's job to help him when he needed help, and to pretend he didn't need help when it suited him.

It had dawned on Dean, after a while, that Bobby had never meant to keep him around after he recovered from this injury. The soft-hearted old guy had never come out and told him that his days were numbered, but he had worked it out. Bobby was always keen to tell people he was only temporary help. And where the hell else was he going to go, except back wherever it was that he had come from. So he guessed that was where Bobby meant to send him, back into that cold black nothingness.

Dean didn't mind too much. He had to be philosophical about it. He knew he had been pretty lucky. Bobby had treated him like a person. Anyone else would have treated him like the slave he was. He knew he had been conjured up for a purpose, and that purpose had a shelf life. He was a little sad, but he was ready to accept that the day would come, and pretty soon, when his usefulness, and life, would be over.

That was part of the reason he hadn't tried to make up that little misunderstanding with Sam. He had been sorry to see him go. He would have liked it if he could have stuck around a while longer. But what would be the point? He couldn't hope to see a future with Sam in it. He had no future. Still, that didn't stop him dreaming about Sam every night.

Bobby had noticed that Dean sometimes looked a little wistful when he spoke about Sam. He wasn't sure if Dean was missing Sam's lively presence at the yard or the magnetic young hunter himself. Certainly, Bobby knew he wasn't much company for a battened down ball of energy like Dean. He couldn't blame the boy for wanting more. It was just a shame that wasn't going to happen.

When Bobby finally put away his crutches, he realised it was time. After all he was a hunter. It went right against the hunter's creed to go conjuring up beings, even if he did only want himself some domestic help. He liked Dean. He had actually gotten very fond of the boy. So it was with a sad heart that he went looking for that cussed old spellbook.

"Sorry, boy", he muttered to himself. "All good things gotta come to an end."

TBC

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><p>AN: Looks like curtains for Dean?


	4. Dream's End

Summary: AU Wheelchair user Bobby needs a helper so he uses a spellbook to create a slave he calls Dean. When hunter Sam turns up, however, Dean begins to look beyond the salvage yard. Sam/Dean unrelated slash. COMPLETE

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><p>AN: Right, here's the final chapter. Some time has passed...

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><p>From Steel And Lightning (Part 4: Dream's End) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>It was almost spring when Sam returned to Sioux Falls, and he was feeling kind of low. He'd spent most of the coldest weeks of the winter stuck in a mountain cabin with a bunch of weird mountain folk, besieged by mutant man-eating reindeer.<p>

Locked in a tiny cabin with nothing to do but wait out the weather, Sam had found Dean was always on his mind. He dreamed of nothing else. Although he remembered that Bobby had told him Dean would be moving on, he hoped that the old guy would be able to point him in his direction. He badly needed to see him again.

When he stepped down from the Impala, Sam was greeted by Bobby standing there on his own two feet.

"Hi there, Sam", Bobby greeted him with a grin and a hug. "How ya been?"

"That's a long story, Bobby", Sam replied, as they wandered in the house. "But it's great to see you up and mobile."

"And it's damn good to be ambulatory again", Bobby agreed. "I was glad to see the back of that pesky goddamn chair. Great to be able to get around the place on my own."

"On your own?", Sam repeated. "So that guy Dean really did disappear like you said he would? He's gone?"

Bobby looked guilty. "I did say he was only temporary, didn't I? I wouldn't have done it, only it was gonna be temporary, no harm no foul."

"Wouldn't have done what?", Sam asked suspiciously.

Bobby had let his tongue get away from him, so now he knew he had to own up. Sam would get it out of him one way or another.

"Wouldn't have... conjured him", he admitted.

"You did WHAT?", Sam demanded, raising his voice.

"I created the guy with an old spell I found in some musty old book. Conjured him from steel and lightning. Yeah, I know I shouldn't've, but hell I needed some help around here, and it was temporary like I said."

"Bobby, you know better than that", Sam scolded him.

"Well, I do now", Bobby replied remorsefully.

"Why? What's happened?"

"Nuthin'", Bobby insisted. "It's just that I never meant to get fond of the boy. And, well, when it came down to it. When I had to unspell the poor guy..."

"Unspell?", Sam yelped, cutting him short. "You mean you OFFED the guy?"

Bobby mumbled, feeling ashamed. "Hell no, Sam. I was gonna, but... I couldn't do it. I guess I'm getting too damn soft in my old age."

"So he's still around?", demanded Sam.

Bobby nodded. "Uh-huh. He's in the yard out back, but please, Sam, don't hurt him. I guess a hunter's gotta do what he's gotta do, but Dean doesn't deserve..."

Sam had already run outside.

.oOo.

Sam found Dean out back with his head inside a truck hood, as usual.

"Dean", he gasped, breathlessly.

Dean leaned back, wiping his hands on his work pants, and blinked in surprise.

"Sam", he answered calmly. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon."

Sam just stared at him for a heartbeat. "I know everything", he said. "About you."

"Oh", Dean responded flatly. "Thought it was too good to last, man."

Sam smiled. "It's OK", he said.

"You're a hunter, Sam. I know what that means", Dean replied.

"No. You don't", Sam insisted. "You got that spellbook?"

Dean sighed. He realised he was busted.

"Sure", he said, pulling the battered book from the back pocket of his jeans. "I got it here. Had to hide it from Bobby, just in case he changed his mind."

He handed the book to Sam. "I found out I like being alive."

Sam rifled through the book, until he found the page with the relevant spell. Dean stiffened, expecting Sam to incant the unspell right there. But to his surprise Sam tore out the page and put his lighter to it. It was instantly gone in a cloud of sparks.

"Why the hell did you do that?", Dean demanded, now confused.

"This is why", Sam said, turning to the book's title page and shoving it under Dean's nose.

Dean took a second to focus. Along the top of the title page, in a bold hand, was written the name 'John Winchester'.

"That's my dad", Sam explained. "This was his book. It was his spell Bobby used. I realised as soon as he told me what he'd done."

Dean was perplexed. "And what's that supposed to mean?", he asked stupidly.

"This...", Sam answered.

He quickly shrugged off his jacket and tugged up his shirt and T-shirt together, revealing his belly, which was perfectly smooth. Open mouthed, Dean reached out a hand and stroked the spot where a belly-button would have been, if Sam had been human.

"I was made from steel and lightning too", the young hunter told him.

"You're like me", Dean gasped in shock. "I... I thought you were human."

"I learned to be human", Sam explained. "Humanity is something you can learn."

Dean was still a little confused. "But you're a hunter, Sam."

"Dad was a hunter, and he conjured me cos he was fighting a war against evil and he needed backup. He taught me everything he knew, and when he passed I continued his life's work. I owed it to him. But I know that not all supernatural beings are evil. Cos I'm not evil, and neither are you. You have a right to live and be happy. We both do."

"So you're not gonna gank me, huh?", Dean queried, just to be sure.

"No", Sam confirmed. "Never."

A smile began to spread over Dean's face. It warmed Sam's heart. Neither of them noticed Bobby approach, until he coughed to get their attention.

"If you two've finished the belly-dancing contest, can someone help me to fix dinner?", he demanded, glad to see nothing more murderous was going on.

"Sure, Bobby", Sam agreed, pulling down his shirts and grinning. "I could eat. I drove all last night to get here, non-stop."

Sam expected Bobby to bawl him out about keeping secrets all these years, but the old guy didn't say a word. He just took it in his stride, like he did everything.

.oOo.

That night, just as Dean was getting in his bed, he heard a tap-tap at his bedroom door. Opening it, he found Bobby on the threshold. Dean was a little surprised, and a little disappointed.

"Oh hi, Bobby", he said. "I kinda thought you were Sam."

"Who woulda guessed?", Bobby chuckled. "Can I come in and talk a sec?"

"Sure", Dean replied, stepping back to let the old guy in.

"Dean", Bobby began solemnly. "I just wanted to say, ifn Sam was to ask you to go away with him, there's no need for you to be loyal to this old dog. I'm thinking you should say 'yes'."

"B-but Bobby", stuttered Dean. "You still need me to take care of you, man. You're not 100 per cent yet."

"Not necessary anymore, boy", Bobby replied in a firm tone. "I'm thinking of you now. You're gonna be safer with Sam. Now I know the truth about him, I see I can trust him with you, even though he's a hunter. He'll teach you to take care of yourself. And, well, seems you're two of a kind. I guess you belong together."

Dean wasn't so sure. "I dunno", he said. "What would Sam want with me?"

"I think that's for him to tell ya", Bobby said, turning to leave. "Just mind what I said."

He opened the door to go, and surprised Sam, who was loitering just outside.

"Night, Sam, Dean", Bobby added, and shuffled off to his own room.

Sam watched Bobby go, then looked at Dean. "Can I come in?", he asked.

"You come to talk too?", Dean asked naively.

"No", Sam replied, closing the door behind him. "I've come to do this...", and he grabbed Dean around the waist and kissed him with unexpected passion.

Dean remembered the last time Sam had tried this, and his own resolution. He didn't offer any resistance. Kissing, he realised after a few seconds, was pretty damn good. So goddamn good that, when Sam stopped to breathe, Dean was very insistent that he continue.

Sam pushed Dean back toward the bed. Dean let him. He was going to let Sam do anything he wanted to him, this time. Sam stopped kissing him for a moment, to hastily disencumber himself of clothes. Dean, anxious to get it right this time, followed his lead and slipped out of the T-shirt and boxers he had just put on.

Dean sat on the bed and Sam joined him, pushing him horizontal and aligning their naked bodies so he lay between Dean's compliant legs. Dean lay back and reached his arms around Sam's broad shoulders, drawing his face closer, so their lips could meet and resume the kissing that he was already missing.

Beneath Sam's smooth, tanned skin, Dean's fingers felt the hard muscles ripple with animal power, as Sam caressed his body, sucking and biting at Dean's neck and shoulder. He felt the bones under Sam's flesh grind down against his, pressing him into the comforter. He crossed his ankles over Sam's tailbone, pulling their bodies tighter together.

He longed for Sam's lips. "Kiss me", he whispered pleadingly. "Sam, kiss me"

Sam raised his head and absorbed the hazy look in Dean's oily green eyes. He took his mouth again, ravaging it with his tongue as they rolled together, a confusion of arms, legs, hands, lips and other bodily parts.

Dean gasped as Sam grasped him in a place that Bobby had never touched, even when he first showed him how to bathe himself. The warmth of Sam's hand, fingers wrapped around that private part of him, started a heat that burned up strong in Dean's belly.

Dean purred and closed his eyes, surrendering himself to anything Sam wanted from him. The bed shuddered in rhythm with their motion. Dean was supercharged. The engine within him thrummed with pleasure, his heart racing, lungs straining, blood surging through every vein, piston pumping, cylinder oh so tight.

"Hydrolock", Dean warned breathlessly. "Gonna break your rod". Sam gave a growling chuckle and increased his pace.

Dean was running hot, running at max speed, almost faint with the rush, compressed heat building dangerously within him. Fire igniting flame deep inside him, he was revved up and ready to burst. Then, abruptly, white sparks and release, and he was coasting smoothly, gently gliding to rest in the arms of his lover.

Lover, yes, because Sam whispered, so intensely in his ear, "Love you, Dean", and it felt good.

They lay in exhausted silence, until their breathing had slowed and synchronized. Dean was lazily thinking how wrong Sam had been. Sex was WAY better than speed. Sam pulled him closer still.

"I'm not leaving without you", he whispered, his voice determined. "Tell me that's what you want."

Dean thought of what Bobby had said to him just before, and realised now that the wise old guy had been right.

"Yes", he breathed. "That's what I want, Sam."

.oOo.

The following day, Sam and Dean prepared to leave Bobby's yard together. Bobby was relieved that Dean had taken his advice and agreed to go with Sam. Somehow he felt that both his boys would be a little safer together.

They said their goodbyes to the old hunter, and walked over to the Impala.

"So you gonna teach me how to be human?", Dean asked jokingly.

"Uh-huh", Sam replied, with a smirk. "First lesson: Empathy."

Sam tossed Dean his keys. Dean caught them instinctively, but gave him a puzzled look in return.

"She's yours", Sam said. "I think she likes you better than me."

Dean grinned wickedly. "Awesome!"

The End

* * *

><p>AN: I know nothing at all about how engines work, so if any of the love scene allusions look like total twaddle to you, please forgive me. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story, and the happy ending.


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